


Sister, It's a Bitter Wine (Spit It Out While You Still Have Time)

by Snap_crackle_spock



Series: Dying In a Modern Age [2]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, and at this point i don't plan on learning it, i don't actually want to pay for dc streaming, so i don't actually know the plot of s3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 09:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snap_crackle_spock/pseuds/Snap_crackle_spock
Summary: In the dark, she can’t see his face.She won’t talk to Bart for weeks. She’s always prided herself on being the Strong One in most situations, usually the only one to apply any rational thinking to any given problem. This isn’t rational. By all accounts, this should bring her closer to Bart. He’s so much like Wally was back when she first met him. Rationally, this would be the time she would be getting closer with him, with Jay and Barry, with the rest of the Garricks and Wests and Allens. Rationally, she knows that they understand and would welcome her with open arms if she were to go to them. She doesn’t.--I've been working on this for about a month now and once I heard about the s3ep25 nonsense I got JUST sad enough to finish it so bon apetite rating for language





	Sister, It's a Bitter Wine (Spit It Out While You Still Have Time)

**Author's Note:**

> anyway I saw something on Tumblr that basically said  
Artemis Crock: *exists*  
Young Justice Fans: *SLAMS THE "GRIEVE" BUTTON*
> 
> and I went "hm. mood."
> 
> Alternative Note: 
> 
> You've all probably already read a better version of this grief fic so welcome

_ In the dark, she can’t see his face. _

She won’t talk to Bart for weeks. She’s always prided herself on being the Strong One in most situations, usually the only one to apply any rational thinking to any given problem. This isn’t rational. By all accounts, this should bring her closer to Bart. He’s so much like Wally was back when she first met him. Rationally, this would be the time she would be getting closer with him, with Jay and Barry, with the rest of the Garricks and Wests and Allens. Rationally, she knows that they understand and would welcome her with open arms if she were to go to them. She doesn’t.

It’s fine (read: better (read: easier)) when he’s not wearing the whole suit. She knows why he did it, she knows because she told him to do it in the first place. Rationally, it’s to honor Wally. It’s to keep his memory alive. It’s to bring the whole Bart-Wally dichotomy full circle. She also can’t help but think about the fact that, for the most part, people won’t even know that Kid Flash died to save them. They won’t know that Wally’s sacrifice was what dealt the final blow because they’ll still see Kid Flash running around. At most, people will just be amazed he’s out of retirement. When Bart’s in the yellow and red, for passing moments Artemis will forget what really happened. She’ll just see a blur and a cackle pass by and feel at ease until the weight of the world comes crashing back in.

_ Against her hand, his jaw feels too sharp. _

Kadur is the other one that she tends to actively avoid. She knows that it’s not his fault that his dad was partially responsible for what happened to Wally. Her dad’s evil too. She knows that while Kaldur was working for Black Manta, doing the work that would eventually lead to the Reach’s doomsday devices, she was working right along with him, both undercover. This knowledge isn’t enough to pacify her. (She might be projecting. Is it obvious?) 

She knows that it’s not fair to pin any of this on him, that he must be feeling all of that to the hundredth degree, and she’s not helping. She knows that he and Wally were friends –close friends– before she’d known any of them, and that he’s grieving too. She knows that right now what he probably needs isn’t isolation like he’d been forced into for the past year while literally at the bottom of the ocean with only henchmen for company; right now he probably needs a friend just as much as she does. She knows. She does not act accordingly. 

_ She lets out a warm breath, lets herself relax the shoulders she’s tensed for too long. _

Around her, she can feel her life slipping away. She drops out of school, goes back to the team full time. And she’s good at it, but that’s not new. She’s always been good at fighting. Tigress is new. The crossbow, though it’s the same basic premise as the bow and she’d learned it from a young age, is not the same. Sometimes, if they stick around after a fight long enough for the press to get there, someone will ask Bart, still thinking it’s the same Kid Flash, where his partner Artemis went. She’s always gone before she has time to hear an answer. She doesn’t know either. 

_ Their lips never actually meet. That’s purposeful. They both know what this is. _

She feels like she’s watching from a third party as people begin to slip out of her life. This is not what she wanted to become. She’d lost touch with a lot of people between the years she and Wally had left the team, just based on proximity. This adds to it. She knows that she’s not the same person she used to be, even if she tries to be when she can. Even when she cracks jokes and has fun and beats the shit out of people, she knows that she’s not a kid anymore. She knows that that comes across, that the people that have known her for the longest are also trying to pretend that it’s still the same. It’s not. They all know that. None of them acknowledge as much. 

Of all the people, though, Dick is there. He leaves the team, and maybe that’s why she stays in contact. Being able to finally just know him as Dick Grayson instead of Robin and Nightwing and pseudo-Batman lets her finally know him at all. Without the weight of the world on his shoulders, even though nobody asked him to carry that burden, she actually sees him. In a way that’s not unlike the annoying kid she met in Gotham so long ago, he’s funny in the smartest way, even if it’s not as often anymore. He doesn’t take himself as seriously anymore, and she hates that it takes a tragedy to finally make someone so used to grief take a breath. A break. 

He still grieves, though. And she feels bad for feeling happy that he grieves in almost the same way she does.

When she’s not literally throwing herself at her work, those few hours of rest between fights, she talks to him. He comes over more often than he ever did before, and they talk. Talk about politics and “how’s Bruce?” “good, how’s your dad?” “oh, you know, threw a bomb at my head last week. Same old same old” and the new running trail Artemis has been taking Brucely on and that one of their old classmates is running for office back in Gotham and pretty much everything in the world that isn’t Wally West. 

She’s sick of talking about him.

No, that’s not accurate. 

She’s sick of other people talking about him. Talking about him wrong. She’s sick of other people talking about him like he’s gone for good. She’s sick of other people talking about him in the past tense. More than anything, she’s sick of other people stopping halfway through their conversations once they realize she’s there too and suddenly the talk turns to tip-toe.

_ It’s like she’s driving herself into a car crash. She wants to close her eyes and imagine the good old days. The better times. But doing that is disingenuous and would do more harm than good. She keeps her eyes open and so does he. _

Before Dick was there, Connor and Zatanna were her crutches. Connor because he can take a punch and Zatanna because she could say some magic words to make all the scars go away. Not all of them. All the ones that people cared about. 

For weeks, Connor would pick Artemis up out of a spar. It didn’t matter who it was, she didn’t discriminate in who was awarded with her outbursts of rage. They weren’t the focus. They were just the ones who were unlucky enough to think going into the ring was a good idea. It wasn’t always, but when it happened it was inevitable. Just as inevitable as Connor jumping between them, telling the punching bag of the week to hit the showers, and letting her finish her round on him. He never said anything about it, never even flinched with every punch, jab, kick, etc. she threw at him. 

After that, there was always Zatanna, waiting with her arms crossed and a knowing but not non-judgemental smile on her face. She knew a thing or two about loss too. She’d magic Artemis to her loft that was just as stylish as she was. The loft that Artemis had started spending nights at if she just couldn’t be alone. 

They’d stay up late like they were still teenagers and Artemis would get fixed up and Zatanna would make drinks and they’d watch bad reality TV just like the old days. Just like they did every time Wally and Artemis decided to “take a break” or Zatanna missed another birthday with her dad. 

Even though everything had changed, Connor and Zatanna were there to remind her that no, no it hadn’t.

But Artemis has found that people don’t like being stuck. 

Stuck in the new team headquarters in case Artemis has another temper tantrum in the practice ring with an unprepared newbie instead of time spent with the Live-In Girlfriend. Stuck spending Friday nights staying in eating ice cream instead of living up the best years of a young life. Stuck coddling. Stuck listening. Stuck in the past. 

They’d never say it, but she knows. She’d hate it, too. 

So she stops. Pushes fast-forward. Hides it all a bit better. 

Invests in a punching bag at home, one that can’t get bruised. 

Buys a medical kit that she doesn’t need another person’s help applying. 

The others probably notice, but they don’t say a thing. She wouldn’t want them to.

Instead, Dick shows up on her doorstep one night, unopened bottle of brandy in one hand, Chinese take-out in the other. She doesn’t remember telling him where she lived, but what’s surprising about Dick knowing something he shouldn’t?

_ It feels like she’s being suffocated by the room around her. The familiar room with familiar walls and a familiar bed feeling altogether unfamiliar. And hot. So so so so hot. _

There had always been a special bond between Dick and Artemis. As the only two on the original team with no _ technical _ superpowers, they both had to compensate with niche ability (bow and arrow, being a real life ninja) and supporting each other against the world. 

There had also always been a tear between them since Dick had asked Artemis to rejoin the team, the lifestyle, in order to take out Black Manta for good. Before that they’d been friends, who had shared a person of great importance to them, making them the best of friends in everything but title. 

Artemis can remember that brief period, before Jason and Tula and Kaldur and the world, when Artemis, Dick, and Wally would just hang out. Be kids. She remembers asking for his help on her college essays and him coming to her (and only her) to see new horror films because, despite Wally’s big talk, he’d always been more George Lucas than Stephen King. 

She can remember impromptu east coast road trips that _ maybe _ they let the Wayne Corporation fund without anyone knowing and structurally sound pillow forts that were still toppled by morning. 

She remembers Dick coming with her and Wally to drive Brucely home for the first time, and she remembers Dick wearing all black to the funeral that matched the man he’d been forced to grow into. 

He tells her that he’s spending the night and she doesn’t argue. He hands her the brandy and she doesn’t bother with glasses because of all people, Dick is the last one who’d have cooties. She takes a swig like she’s desperate before turning and letting him follow her inside. He knows the way. He helped them pick out this house. 

Brucely is happy as ever to see his favorite dog-sitter, even though he’s been MIA for a few months now. Growing up she was taught that dogs weren’t as smart as people but she’s since learned better. She wishes she could be as smart as her stupid dog. 

She takes notice at the fact that Dick isn’t checking for possible exits. She knows he knows them already, but this is a habit that used to transcend reason. She’d once caught him double checking the cave for new escape routes. Instead he makes himself at home on their –her– couch, which still has a blanket haphazardly tossed onto it, a book laying open on the armrest, and her ugly sneakers from yesterday's run right at the foot. Her house looks lived in even though it’s only seeing half the life, and she bitterly thinks it must be welcoming the new blood. 

“Veggie lo mein?” Is all he says, opening one of the takeout boxes and offering it to her. Fuck him for knowing her weakspots. Fuck him for knowing her order. Fuck him for showing up out of the blue even though they hadn’t had a real conversation in months and she’s honestly thought she was the last person he wanted to see ever again because she was part of the reason Dick and Wally had been fighting when Wally had died. 

She sits down next to him and takes the takeout without questions. 

She’s not going to apologize for being a mess. She’s also not going to apologize for any of the things that had been eating away at her for months now. 

She’s sick of hearing them, even if they’re from her own mouth. 

Sorry can’t raise the dead. 

Ceased. 

Whatever.

Not whatever. 

“You know,” Dick says, carefully but not with caution, “I think a great name for a Chinese-American fusion restaurant would be Mein Street,” he holds up his on lo mein for emphasis. 

That’s all it takes. 

She laughs for the first time in at least a few weeks. 

She laughs for real for the first time since Wally West died on July 4th. 

_ Between her hands, his hair isn’t the fire she’s used to. It’s black ice. _

Dick keeps coming over. Not because he pretends like everything’s just how they left it before Artemis died and Tigress was born. Not because he lets her beat herself up just to make her feel something again. Not because he reminds her so achingly of someone she loves. 

He keeps coming over because together they move on. 

They fuck sometimes too, but that’s more complicated than anyone can get into. 

Mostly they just hang out like the old friends they are. 

They don’t walk on eggshells with each other because they both know they miss him just the same. 

They watch dumb movies and crack jokes and sometimes will mention something that happened before they both lost a part of themselves. Sometimes they’ll dare to do what no other has dared before and mention Wally by name. 

Something about saying it once breaks the barrier. 

Something about realizing that it’s possible to let go with one hand and keep the other on the safety railing makes her okay again.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this grief porn? Discuss.


End file.
